


In Full Bloom

by casastella



Series: Eternal Gardens [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AU where falling in love with someone makes flowers bloom on your skin, Atsumu tries to change that, Banter, Falling In Love, Flowers, Fluff and Angst, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, M/M, Miscommunication, Music, Not Beta Read, Sakusa exclusively listens to classical music, Swearing, don't know if i really need that tag but it's there, there's so much i'm sorry, youth training camp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25422460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casastella/pseuds/casastella
Summary: Sakusa has fallen in and out of love more times than he can count on one hand, his heart's restless endeavours forever marked by the flowers that bloomed across his skin.Just as he wrestles his heart under control, Atsumu comes crashing in once more, awakening long-forgotten feelings and painting Sakusa's life in the warmest rays of sunlight.But as fate would have it, Sakusa cannot stop loving Atsumu when he needs to more than ever.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: Eternal Gardens [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1839163
Comments: 61
Kudos: 624
Collections: So beautiful It makes me want to cry, ~SakuAtsu~





	In Full Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in the works since I finished writing Flowers for Kenjirou all the way back in  
> March (it had a vastly different take on the concept) and it's collected dust in my folders after I left it at 3k words. Reading [A Tender Perennial](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24228325/chapters/58373902) last week gave me so many emotions and made me want to continue this again, bringing what was meant to be a 6k at most to nearly 10k.
> 
> Disclaimer: I know nothing about classical music but I tried my best so hopefully I didn't butcher anything.
> 
> Also please go and take a look at [this beautiful art](https://twitter.com/CLNhem_art/status/1357350652037328901) by CLNhem_art! (Warning for mild spoilers.)

Sakusa Kiyoomi loved as easily as he breathed. He loved his mum, he loved volleyball, he loved the sound of Tchaikovsky in the morning and he had loved many people who’d become flowers painted on his skin. There were carnations on his bicep from the boy in his second year of middle school; his first love. Roses on his lower back from the girl who danced as gracefully as a swan. Daffodils from the first boy he’d kissed. Gladioluses on his shoulder blade from Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Sakusa didn’t wear his heart on his sleeves and he never told a soul of his flowers’ owners, the people who held his heart in their hands at some point in time, however briefly. Sakusa preferred to love from afar, silently, patiently, waiting for the infatuation to pass, and he scrubbed his mind clean afterwards, even if he couldn’t erase the evidence of love on his body, once colourful flowers forever faded to gray.

He didn’t hide them from curious eyes but he didn’t answer prodding questions either.

“Wow, Sakusa-kun,” they said. “You already have four?”

They said it like he was so fickle and undevoted but who he loved and how he loved wasn’t any of their business. Yet it happened at every new place where he had to change. New high school, nationals, training camps, National Youth Training Camp.

He officially met Miya Atsumu there. Loud, self-righteous Miya Atsumu who thought his sets were holier-than-thou, and had a mouth as blunt as heel to the head.

“Well, I’ll be darned, Kiyoomi-kun,” he said on the first night as if they’d been long time best friends. Sakusa had just come out of the baths, a towel around his waist and a basket of toiletries in one hand, while others had started to flow in. As such, all four bundles of his flowers were on full display.

“Who are all these lucky bastards?” Atsumu asked, shit-eating grin on his face. “Or should I say ‘unlucky’ seein’ as they’re all gray?”

Komori was by his side in an instant like a knight ready to defend his post, loyal as always despite Sakusa’s less than likeable temperament.

“What about you, Miya?” Komori swiftly changed the subject, pointing at Atsumu’s knee where sages bloomed. “Who are those for?”

Atsumu wasn’t one to back down apparently. “I asked Kiyoomi-kun first.”

Sakusa stepped into the conversation with, “What are you? A fourth-grader?”

Atsumu, to his credit, chuckled and put his hands up in surrender. “No need to get defensive. I was jus’ wondering, is all.”

“Well, stop.”

Atsumu just raised an eyebrow as Sakusa and Komori went past, leaving a wide berth between them.

He heard Atsumu murmur, “This is gonna be an interesting camp.”

Sakusa was inclined to agree, as did Komori who rambled about playing with new people on the way back to their room, not minding the small scuffle in the bathroom. 

The libero had been there when all of his flowers had bloomed and then turned gray blossom by blossom as Sakusa realised he’d rather have all of these people as friends than something more. He never asked in detail about them and if he found Sakusa to be strange, he never mentioned it.

~

Sakusa had routines that had evolved from habits. He washed his hands before bed and showered as soon as he woke. He read before sleeping, whether at night or before naps. He listened to classical music at breakfast because his mum was a ballerina and she always put something on in the morning, humming along and running through the choreography in her head as she got ready for the day.

Sakusa kept that up even at camp, earphones in as he ate. By the third day, Komori had made friends with other people and he left Sakusa to join Kageyama and a boy with broccoli hair. Everyone else were in their own little groups, not paying attention to Sakusa, which was fine by him.

The only one who didn’t get the hint was Atsumu, who all but dropped his tray on the opposite side of Sakusa’s table before making himself comfortable.

“I gotta bone to pick with you,” he said as a greeting.

Sakusa gave him a look to say, _I really don’t care._ Never mind that his interest was snared, since no one had ever declared that to his face.

“Why aren’t ya hitting my sets right?”

“I hit however I want.”

“And I’m setting the way you like it,” Atsumu insisted, leaning in to glare. “But yer holding back more than with Tobio-kun’s sets.”

“Maybe he just sets better than you.”

Atsumu grinned but he looked about ready to drag his greatest enemies behind a chariot. “I know that’s not true,” he said with all the confidence of someone who’d personally been blessed by a god. “I want you to trust my tosses. No holding back.”

Something about the way he said it made Sakusa pause whatever retort he’d lined up. Atsumu was blunt to a fault, calling Kageyama a goody-two-shoes and telling Hoshiumi that he would probably never reach one-eighty centimetres. He wasn’t afraid to make demands either.

Sakusa chose to ignore him and the all-too-familiar ignition in his chest, a small burning ember.

Atsumu had said all he came to say but he didn’t leave. He simply sat across from Sakusa, chewed his food too loudly and stared at him. Sakusa focused on the music, imagined his mum getting ready for the day.

“What are you listening to?”

“Tchaikovsky.”

“Chai-what?”

“Classical music. You wouldn’t understand.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sakusa repeated slowly, “You wouldn’t understand classical music.”

“Oi! I’m not stupid. I know classical music. It has violins and shit.”

The utter dumbassery and total disrespect made Sakusa want to smack his tray upside Atsumu’s head, heart pounding.

He muttered under his breath, “Uncultured,” which Atsumu heard and squawked about, spitting on the table between them.

Sakusa couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t leaving at this point. Under normal circumstances, he’d already be out of the room but here he was, watching Atsumu get ready to argue with him.

“Literally no sixteen-year-old guy listens to classical music! I ain’t the weirdo here, Kiyoomi-kun. Do you even know what pop music is?”

“That shit hurts my ears.”

“Have ya ever listened to it?”

“Obviously, I have. Have _you_ ever listened to Tchaikovsky? Mozart?”

Atsumu narrowed his eyes. “Let’s make a deal. Whoever gets more service aces today has to listen to the other’s music.”

Sakusa could not have cared less about making this idiot listen to anything but he did have a competitive streak and perhaps that was his ultimate downfall. He never verbally acknowledged Atsumu’s proposal but he found himself paying extra care to his serves _and_ spikes. He was too busy trying to win that he forgot to be paranoid about his shoulder until Kageyama commented on it at the end of the day.

As they finished up, Sakusa willingly approached Atsumu who laid on the floor, stretching.

“I won,” Sakusa said, standing over him.

Atsumu’s jaw ticked and he blew hair out of his face sweaty face. “Whatever. I wasn’t serious this morning anyway.”

“Too bad. Come after dinner.”

Sakusa walked away, leaving Atsumu gaping in disbelief.

After dinner, Sakusa had forgotten the demand he’d made of Atsumu and was surprised to find him standing on the other side of the door of his and Komori’s shared room. It was almost ten and Sakusa’s ritual dictated he be asleep soon. Komori looked on curiously from his bed as Atsumu grumbled into the room.

“Let’s get this over with,” he huffed, sitting at the foot of the other bed.

Sakusa’s bed. Komori sucked in a breath, eyeing between the two of them, ready to throw water if worse came to worst.

Sakusa just grabbed his phone and picked a piece.

Atsumu yawned like the dramatic, fake jerk that he was. “Pianos. Trumpets.”

There were several parts which he totally missed out and Komori, having heard the piece before, sniggered into his hand as Atsumu continued to list off every instrument under the sun, including a kazoo.

“Kiyoomi-kun,” he drawled, leaning back on his dirty hands on _Sakusa’s sheets_. “This is boring. I’m definitely winning tomorr- wait. Are those… Church bells?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you put church bells into-”

“Shut up and listen.”

Atsumu glowered and pressed his lips together but became more invested nonetheless. Sakusa waited, scouring Atsumu’s face for the reaction he wanted while trying to not notice the fine line of his jaw or the deceptively pretty eyes. He almost missed the face Atsumu’s made.

“Are those _guns_?”

Sakusa smirked. “Cannons. You missed a few at the start.”

“What the fuck.” He repeated it twice more before the piece ended.

Komori was grinning by the last cannon, moving closer to see Atsumu’s reaction.

“That is the finale of Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture. Do your pop songs have cannons, Miya?” Sakusa challenged.

Atsumu stood, coming right up to Sakusa but was smart enough to stop two feet away. “Oh, be smug as ya like, Omi-kun. I admit it was kinda cool but I’m still winning tomorrow. Just watch.”

With that last word, Atsumu was shuffling off, shutting the door hard and Sakusa watched it for two more heartbeats before he got to stripping the sheets off his bed.

“What was that all about?” Komori asked.

Sakusa didn’t have to see to guess the look on his cousin’s face. “I won a bet,” he said.

Komori hummed knowingly. “Kiyoomi, I think you’re going to get more flowers.”

He shrugged, pulling out new sheets from the closet. “They’ll be gray soon enough.”

Sakusa fell in love as easily as he breathed and he returned home with a red coppertip on his collarbone.

~

Sakusa preferred to love from afar, silently, patiently, waiting for the infatuation to pass. But before that, there came the ache in his chest as he watched Inarizaki lose their first and only match to Karasuno, the black horse that took down the famous Shiratorizawa and Ushiwaka. The crows of the east had taken apart the foxes of the west whom Itachiyama faced in the finals this past inter-high. Sakusa had been looking forward to playing against both these teams again and he vowed vengeance on Karasuno, a claim he didn’t have the right to make.

He knew better than to seek out Atsumu so he didn’t. But it wasn’t his fault that Inarizaki team came to a pause near the stairs that Sakusa passed on his way to his own team. It wasn’t his fault that their captain, Kita Shinsuke, had an ethereal presence that made people stop and listen as he gave his final speech that had them all in tears.

“ _Now that we’re here, I’m wishin’ I had more chances to brag about you all, showing off to everybody how amazing all my teammates are._ ”

Sakusa was close enough to hear Atsumu’s promise.

“Go on and brag, senpai. We’ll be the kind of teammates you can brag about to your great-grandkids.”

Sakusa couldn’t see Atsumu’s face and he should’ve left long ago. Yet he lingered as Inarizaki disappeared down the stairs one by one until only the Miya twins were left.

“Ya gotta tell him soon,” Miya Osamu said, “before he graduates.”

“Why would I? Ya don’t see any flowers on him.”

The twins began walking down the stairs, unaware of Sakusa frozen behind them, staring at the sages on Atsumu’s knee. His own coppertips had multiplied to three and they peeked over the collar of his jersey. 

_Typical_ , Sakusa thought as he swallowed and forced himself to walk away, breath warm beneath his mask and hands cold in his pockets.

~

Three red flowers became five and by the middle of third year, they were all gray.

Fall in love, out of love, rinse and repeat.

The new first years on the team whispered behind their hands in changerooms and the older members seemed to be expecting it.

“Don’t ever be ashamed of them,” his mum said firmly when she saw his latest batch of gray flowers. “They’re proof that you’ve lived and loved. There are worse things in life.”

Subconsciously, she touched her forearm where asters had wilted and died.

When Sakusa faced Atsumu again across the court at inter-high, a darker part of him was still disappointed to find the purple of sages hadn’t faded.

There were worse things in life, he told himself and beat the pants off of Inarizaki.

~

Sakusa arrived at the bar ten minutes early but the gathering was already gaining momentum. He wouldn’t be here at a dingy, local bar with far too many people if not for Komori, and also severely needing a stronger drink than beer.

Komori was sitting at a booth with a few of Itachiyama alumni and Sakusa made his way there, politely nodding back to people who called him out by name but swiftly avoided being caught in conversation.

When Komori saw him, he left the table and directed Sakusa towards a relatively empty area of the bar.

“We don’t have to,” Sakusa had told him but Komori just steered him by the shoulders. 

“Don’t sweat it. It was getting real uncomfortable over there and I’m just glad I found you.”

This high school reunion became more of a family reunion as the evening wore on. Of course, they kept in touch after their paths diverged at the end of high school but with Komori recently joining the V. Leagues and Sakusa’s third-year thesis coming up, meetings in person had become rarer.

“It’s pretty full-on,” Komori said, recounting his first official match in the pro volleyball world. “You go up against people like Romero, you know, and it’s even scarier when he’s in front of you. We lost that match but it wasn’t really a surprise. How’s your team going?”

Sakusa finished his third vodka for the night. “Fine. We’re doing better than last year.”

“Yeah, I heard that. What about pros? Are you going to try out for next year?”

Sakusa ordered another drink. He still had one more year of university and he wanted to get his degree in peace before thinking about pros. But- “I’ve got a couple of scouting offers. Azuma Rockets and the Black Jackals.”

“Whoa,” Komori breathed. “Dude, that’s awesome! The Jackals got Bokuto Koutarou this year so now they have both Miya and him.”

Sakusa downed his drink in one go. The bar was starting to become hazy and Komori’s hair was a little bit on fire from the lights above them.

“Kiyoomi,” he said carefully. “Since when do you drink this much? Are you okay?”

Sakusa laughed, still sober enough to know how wrong it sounded. “Rika broke up with me today.”

“Oh, shit,” Komori muttered under his breath as his eyes started to search Sakusa’s fully-clothed body for more gray flowers, the third cluster in just as many years.

But it was different this time so Sakusa shook his head. The world swayed. “I still love her.”

“Oh, shit,” Komori repeated.

“She says she can’t be with someone like me for the rest of her life.”

Sakusa didn’t understand. He loved her longer than he’d ever loved anyone – nearly a year now – and he was trying to be better. He held her hand and kissed her in public and he shared the same bed with her and he’d listened to her, made time for her and tried to provide what she wanted. But it wasn’t enough and the belladonnas on her navel had gone gray.

For the first time, Sakusa understood what his exes must’ve felt when they saw greying flowers on his body. That pain of going from being the light of someone’s life to just another cluster of flowers, a memory.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he whispered.

Komori punched his shoulder. “Stop that. You know there’s nothing wrong with you.”

Wasn’t there? Who else fell in and out of love with the rise and fall of the sun? He couldn’t make relationships last – that was, if they wanted a relationship at all, considering all the evidence of his past loves in the short twenty-one years of his life, forever inked on his skin.

What’s worse, he knew these yellow hibiscuses on his shoulder would be gray in no time at all.

Sakusa was so sick of this.

“Okay,” Komori tried a different approach. “Let’s try to figure this out logically so your next relationship goes better. Are you still making people wash their hands when they come to your place?”

No, Sakusa had gotten a lot better about his disgust for germs since he’d started majoring in microbiology (and going to therapy). Being better informed and all that. But that wasn’t the point here.

“It’s fine, Motoya. There won’t be a next. Sorry for pouring this on you tonight of all nights.”

Komori watched him with a look in his eyes that Sakusa was too tipsy to decipher correctly. It could’ve been concern, it could’ve been pity, it could’ve been disbelief or a mix of all three. If anyone was able to pinpoint the root of Sakusa’s frustrations, it would be Komori who had been by his side since childhood.

But Sakusa would survive his first real heartbreak. It seemed that he had too much heart anyway and this was but a crack in a corner.

~

The hibiscuses lost their colour at the turn of the season when trees became skeletons of what they used to be. Sakusa peeled away the bandaid over his heart but the scar remained as a reminder.

He stopped looking at people in the eyes, and at people altogether. His masks and scarves became shields behind which he protected himself – and others. He thought of his mum who proudly rolled up her sleeves, uncaring of the world’s billion pitying eyes for the woman who lost her only love, left with a son who had far too many. She was braver than he was.

In his final year of university, Sakusa finally succeeded in wrestling his heart under control.

~

Sakusa had collected offers for four division one and three division two teams by graduation. He threw away all but two offers pinned on a corkboard, hanging side by side but warring with each other; the Adlers and the Jackals in a small, insignificant battle to win over the MVP of the latest university championships. Each team held one person who’d painted flowers on him.

Ushijima Wakatoshi with his gladioluses and unrivalled strength, and Miya Atsumu with his coppertips and absolute confidence.

Sakusa pondered over it for days. He called Komori to ask for advice and his immediate words were, “Oh, boy,” before suggesting he joined the Adlers, the team currently dominating the league.

Some part of Sakusa with far too much pride did not sit well with the sentiment of joining the winning team. He wanted the team he joined to win.

So he accepted the Jackals’ offer. A mistake.

As Captain Meian Shuugo welcomed them on his first official day with two other rookies, Atsumu sent him a cocksure grin that made Sakusa’s skin crawl. It had been a few years since they faced each other on the same court but Sakusa remembered it like it was yesterday. But unlike before, Sakusa absolutely refused to indulge him.

Introductions passed and there wasn’t enough time before training began to get to know people aside from names and what he’d read on the MSBY website. Sakusa was more than fine with that until Atsumu cornered him in the changerooms afterwards.

“So ya decided to join us, huh?” he said.

He wasn’t looking for an answer so Sakusa didn’t give one.

Atsumu folded his arms over his chest and continued, “Heard you got scouted by the Adlers too so I thought ya would’ve gone there. But I’m glad you know who the better setter is out of me and Tobio-kun.”

It was disturbing to see that Atsumu hadn’t changed since they last spoke four years ago at Spring High. “Who told you that?” Sakusa asked, pulling out his change of clothes, refusing to give Atsumu too much attention.

Atsumu tipped his nose into the air. “Didn’t you hear? I won best setter last season.”

“No, but I know Kageyama won best server.”

Atsumu spluttered and fumed but Sakusa couldn’t figure out why he expected praise out of him in the first place. That had never been their relationship.

Momentarily forgetting, Sakusa lifted his dri-fit over his head and had no choice but take it off completely, too late to bring it back down. Barely concealed surprise coloured Atsumu’s face as he stared shamelessly at the new addition of flowers on Sakusa’s now exposed skin. He made a face that said, ‘ _You haven’t changed either.’_

Sakusa had never been embarrassed of his flowers, no matter how many times he felt like an artifact at a museum. But for the first time ever, he wanted to cover himself up, to defend himself.

“You got more,” Atsumu noted, whistling. “Someone’s a player.”

Sakusa stared at him, daring him to say more. But Atsumu got the hint and physically backed up a step. He looked over his shoulder.

“Don’t let Bokkun see yet,” he warned. “He’ll flip his shit. Won’t stop pestering ya.”

“ _You_ are pestering me.”

“Mean, Omi-kun. Remember, I’m the one who decides who gets the ball.”

That was all Atsumu said as he spun on his heels and retreated.

Sakusa watched him walk away, easily falling into a raucous conversation with Bokuto on the other side of the changeroom like they’d known each other for years. Maybe they had. Or maybe they just radiated an exuberant energy that drew in everyone’s attention like moths to a flame, taking curious eyes off of the flowers on Sakusa’s body.

He tore his own eyes away and built a wall around him in his little corner of the changeroom.

~

The sages on Atsumu’s knee were gray now. Sakusa noticed it for the first time when they were stretching on the floor, Atsumu’s legs split in almost one-eighty degrees in a show of unexpected flexibility. He and Bokuto were talking about something Sakusa had tuned out of, more occupied with the gray sages that begged a million questions and gave him the distinct impression that he was being mocked.

Sakusa had seen recordings the Jackals’ games in recent years but he avoided paying enough attention to the setter to figure out when the purple had faded away. Actually, he avoided looking at any one particular player for too long.

“Hey, Omi-Omi,” Atsumu called. “Bokkun and I are going for yakiniku after. Join us.”

 _Join us_. Not a ‘Do you want to come?’ but a ‘join us’ like Sakusa had no say in the matter. If not for everyone’s curious eyes for his reaction, Sakusa might’ve snapped at Atsumu. The team knew of his aversion to social interaction. What Sakusa could always feel in their subtle looks was trying to figure out if it came from his need for hygiene or something deeper, under the garden on his skin.

“Fine,” he said, and found himself tagging along.

The two of them talked enough to make up for Sakusa’s silence ten times over. But they asked him questions too about university and Komori and how he got such flexible wrists. If that were all, maybe Sakusa would’ve been fine with it; non-personal questions that required not much effort to answer.

But then Atsumu asked, “Ya still listen to classical music, Omi?”

He meant it as a jab at Sakusa’s ‘ancient mental age’. But the fact that Atsumu remembered such an unimportant detail from years ago, something even Sakusa had forgotten he’d shared with anyone else, had the world screech to a stop on Atsumu’s face. It stayed there long enough for Sakusa to take in the small dimple on one side, eyes sparkling with amusement, Chapstick-smudged lips pulled into a signature smirk.

“I do, actually,” he said. “You still listen to your shitty pop music?”

“Oh, ya wanna do this again, Omi-kun? Serves for a song?”

A _piece_ , he wanted to correct. “You’re on.”

Atsumu’s smile turned positively feral. “Better start preparing to become expert in mainstream pop, Omi-Omi. I _am_ the best server in the league.”

“Second best.”

“Sorry, what’s going on?” Bokuto interrupted, looking between the two.

It wasn’t until then that Sakusa realised how easily he slipped into the same orbit he spent years clawing his way out of. As Atsumu explained their bet from that fateful training camp to Bokuto, he focused solely on the grilled meat in his plate.

For two years now, the expanse of Sakusa’s body had been home to eight clusters of gray flowers. He refused to change that precious stability.

~

Sakusa’s life was made of routines. It was unsuspectingly easy to change one from his mornings. Time that he used to spend pouring over his studies suddenly became free once he graduated so he’d had it substituted with stretches his mum had taught him and then a light jog around the neighbourhood.

Sakusa had made the mistake of choosing an apartment far too close to the Jackals’ dormitories so it was no surprise that one morning, he ran into Atsumu who was also jogging. They didn’t talk at first, just fell into step with each other and every time Sakusa tried to pull away, Atsumu would follow. Eventually, Sakusa arrived at a pier, having run much further than he’d intended and was cutting into time for other things.

“What do you want?” he asked Atsumu, pulling out his earphones that had played nothing the entire time.

“What do ya mean, ‘What do you want?’ We’ve been teammates for, like, a month now. Can’t I just run with a teammate?”

“I prefer to run alone.”

Atsumu rolled his eyes. “And I prefer to be born alone but we can’t always have things we want in life.”

The tone made Sakusa pause and really look at Atsumu. Surely, it was way too early for someone to be irritated by their brother who lived in another prefecture, right? Or did twins just automatically know when their siblings screwed each other over?

“Don’t follow me back,” Sakusa told him, starting off in the direction he came.

Atsumu, of course, ignored that entirely. “Come on, Omi-Omi. Just humour me, yeah?”

Sakusa contemplated actually putting on some music.

“So Samu told me last night that he accidentally threw out my collection of V. League cards that I spent my entire childhood allowance on and he doesn’t even have the decency to sound apologetic! I mean, can ya believe him? He knows that I’m very attached to them and he just threw them out!”

“Why didn’t you just hold onto them if you’re that attached?”

“It got shoved into his stuff when we moved out, okay? And the fucker keeps forgetting to bring it every time he comes because he’s too focused on bangin’ his boyfriend.”

Sakusa could’ve gone his whole life without hearing about Atsumu’s brother having sex.

“Sometimes I could kill him,” Atsumu said with passion.

“Over a deck of cards?”

Atsumu gave him a mighty unimpressed look. “Ya don’t have siblings, Omi-Omi. You wouldn’t understand.”

“I do have siblings. Two older brothers.”

Atsumu did a double take. “Oh. I did not know that. They play volleyball?”

“No.” His eldest brother was now married with two kids, living his best life in Singapore, not looking back once at Sakusa or their mum. His second brother was part of his mum’s dance company until he left for overseas too. Sakusa hadn’t heard from either of them in a while.

“Well,” Atsumu said. “Yer brothers must’ve spoiled you if ya can’t understand wanting to kill them over a deck of cards.”

“No, they just weren’t around long enough. Both moved out when I was eight.”

“Omi-kun. This is getting sad and I’m gonna start feeling bad about ranting to you.”

“Good.”

Leaving a bewildered Atsumu, Sakusa pulled ahead to hide a smile that fought its way onto his face.

Morning jogs with Atsumu became a routine that Sakusa begrudgingly allowed, peeved about the fact that he had to reduce his vacuuming time. Sakusa would’ve pushed back against Atsumu’s push into his boundaries had he not known it to be a futile fight. (When Sakusa changed his running route, Atsumu showed up at his apartment at five in the morning.)

So Atsumu managed to not only wriggle his way into this little part of Sakusa’s routine but also forced him to run longer and further, all the way to the pier every single morning.

“Where’s that pro-athlete stamina, Omi-kun?” Atsumu had jabbed.

“Tired already?”

“Wow, I’m gonna win again today, aren’t I?”

“I bet ya only last five minutes in bed.”

Atsumu kept pushing and pushing against Sakusa’s pride with a self-satisfied grin that knew he was winning whether Sakusa turned around or kept going. And he had far too much pride to turn around.

So they always ended up at the pier, just as the sun rose over the shimmering waters and warmth seeped into the world around them. Sakusa never stayed to admire something that was as routine as everything else in his life. The sun would always rise. It would always set. He saw no poetic meaning behind simple science.

But Atsumu always insisted.

“It’s pretty!” he’d say, trying to drag Sakusa back without touching him. “Just watch once! I’ll listen to another one of yer Paganini pieces.”

“You’ve heard all of them.” Untrue.

“Then Finzi. Just this once.”

It was Sakusa’s curiosity that made him agree one morning, Atsumu’s face lit up in triumph. He leaned over the rails of the pier, facing a horizon that burned a little brighter with each passing minute, and Sakusa did the same but he refused to touch the rusting metal bars.

“This is life, Omi-kun,” Atsumu said in contentment. “Ya gotta enjoy the little moments.”

“I enjoy every part of life an appropriate amount.”

A scoff but, in a rare moment of silence, Atsumu said no more.

Behind them, traffic hummed louder and louder as day began to break and the sweet smell of butter and honey wafted from nearby bakeries and cafes. In front, the sea bobbed along leisurely, uncaring of the busy world it lived next to, and In the distance, the skyline was on fire with the peeking sun.

“I never took you for the type to enjoy something like this,” Sakusa said, just to fill in the silence Atsumu left with nowhere to look but ahead.

He shrugged. “I didn’t really. I confessed to someone during a sunrise and got rejected so it stung like hell. He didn’t mean to hurt me, ya know, and I kinda always knew he was too good for me. I’ve realised that I’m just grateful for everything he’s done for me and that he’s still in my life so I made peace with it.”

“Your old captain?”

Atsumu turned to him, surprised. “How d’ya know about that?”

Sakusa glanced at the sages, reliving a moment he hadn’t been able to forget, way back at Spring High in their second year. “Word gets around.”

In turn, Atsumu looked at all the parts of Sakusa where he knew were flowers, covered by his windbreaker and trackpants. “It sure does,” he agreed.

In a recent practice match against a top college team, the two teams had to share the locker room. The Jackals’ were kind enough to not mention Sakusa’s flowers or make assumptions about it but these assholes were not. He was used to the whispers, of course, but it still left a bitter feeling in his mouth before Atsumu had slammed his locker shut and glared at every single opponent as he shuffled out. If he set to Sakusa more often that match and Sakusa slammed them all home with more force than necessary, no one said a thing.

“Just ask, Miya,” Sakusa said when Atsumu’s stare became too unnerving.

“I heard one of those were for Ushiwaka. Is that true?”

“Yeah, on my back.” A bunch of gladioluses for sincerity and strength of character.

Atsumu’s eyes slid down. “You grew some flowers back at the youth camp. Right here,” he said quietly, a finger hovering over Sakusa’s collarbone, not quite touching the fabric between their skin.

Sakusa couldn’t breathe, not as Atsumu looked up, not as he asked, “Who were these for?”

“Don’t ask about that.”

Atsumu dropped his hand but Sakusa could still feel a phantom touch that was never there.

“Would ya tell me who the other ones are for then?”

No one knew about all of them, not even Komori. “They’re not important.”

“They were at one point in yer life.”

Sakusa had never seen him so earnest. He wasn’t even trying to pry; it was simply a statement.

“Ya know,” Atsumu continued, “it doesn’t matter what people say. So what if you fall out of love? What does it matter? It happens all the time.”

“I’ve fallen twice as much at twenty-two as an average person does in their lifetime.”

“So?”

_So?_ “Who would want to be with someone like that?”

Atsumu thought for a while, tilting his head to the orange and blue sky above as the sun bathed him in a warm glow. A salty breeze caressed his hair in a taunting imitation of what Sakusa’s fingers had once longed to do.

Without turning, Atsumu answered, “I’d rather be with someone who genuinely loves me for a short while than with someone who will regret it later.”

Did Sakusa regret it? Did he regret Rika? No, he decided after a moment. It had hurt to be at the receiving end of an ugly breakup but for the months that they were together, Sakusa had learnt what it felt like to have an eternity laid before him, full of possibilities that he would eventually learn to share with her, that he _wanted_ to share with her. For all the love he had to give, Sakusa wasn’t the best at love or relationship but for once in his life, he could see himself becoming better with her.

He didn’t regret Ushijima or Atsumu, even though from the beginning he knew he never stood a chance with either, not with the red geraniums on Ushijima’s chest and the purple sages on Atsumu’s knee. And yeah, that had hurt too but in some twisted form of masochism, Sakusa savoured the swooping feeling in his stomach every time they looked his way, the thud of his heart against its cage when he watched them from a distance, never reaching out.

“Not everyone has that mindset.”

Atsumu looked at him. “Do ya need everyone to?”

Sakusa pressed his lips together, carefully tucking the way soft light fell upon Atsumu’s face into memory. “No. I guess I don’t.”

“You don’t,” Atsumu repeated, throwing his arms out as the wind picked up, barely avoiding smacking Sakusa across the chest.

“Kita Shinsuke,” Sakusa found himself saying. Atsumu opened an eye, glancing sideways. “You might be an insufferable asshole but I think even you deserve it too.”

“Deserve what?”

Giving a last look at the rising sun, Sakusa jogged away.

“Omi! What does that mean?”

Atsumu’s noisy protests continued, slipping further into his accent with irritation, and despite everything, Sakusa smiled.

Later when he was in the shower after the day’s training, he realised that Atsumu was right. His flowers _were_ important at some point in his life and now they were a memory of his purest, strongest emotions.

Sakusa loved as easily as he breathed and come sunset, there was a single red bloom among the gray coppertips.

~

One red flower became three and in a span of two weeks, six red flowers twisted up the side of Sakusa’s neck.

As he sat one foot away from the subject of his affections in the common room of the team dormitories, phone blasting a song between the two of them on the couch, he couldn’t help but think, _Of course._

“Come on, you gotta like this one,” Atsumu groaned. “The rap isn’t even that fast.”

“My problem isn’t the rap. It’s everything.”

“At least tell me yer okay with _Awake_. It has like string instruments or something. It’s also very meaningful- Well, pretty much all their songs are meaningful, but that one in particular. Ya can’t tell me it doesn’t touch yer stone cold heart.”

Sakusa’s heart was not stone cold. His heart was as warm and soft as he had ever let it be, practically melting under the sun that filtered through the open windows. In fact, it was so melted that it even messed with the function of his brain because, truth be told, Sakusa actually liked some of the songs Atsumu played for him today.

“ _Awake_ was fine,” he admitted, and that was as much as he would say.

Atsumu sighed, sagging on the couch. “Twenty songs and that’s the only one ya like?”

“I said it’s fine, not that I like it.” He paused for a moment, and then- “Which one is your favourite?”

“Like, member or song?”

“…You have a favourite _member_?”

Atsumu flushed a pretty shade of red and shot right up. “Oi, don’t judge, Omi-kun!” he said with great emphasis on ‘ _kun_ ’. “I was just gonna say I don’t have a favourite member! My favourite song is _Dionysus._ ”

Sakusa kept giving knowing looks. Atsumu had recently gotten into a boyband the way one would fall off a cliff; wholly. If he ever had a ledge he could’ve held onto, he simply said, ‘Fuck that,’ and let go. As a result, that was all Sakusa heard from him for a while in the case that he didn’t get the most service aces that day, which was mostly fifty-fifty. Atsumu certainly gave him a run for his money – second best server in the league and all – but Sakusa would die before he made things easy.

“Oh, whatever,” Atsumu said, slumping back down. “If you’ve actually seen their faces, you’d know what I’m talkin’ about.”

Sakusa _had_ seen their faces. He’d gone home last time after Atsumu talked his ear off about them and got invested enough to actually look them up. And well, Sakusa could appreciate good looks when he saw it – not that he’d ever tell Atsumu about it. It still didn’t change the fact that he didn’t like songs with lyrics.

“You ever tried to dance to them?” he asked.

It was an innocent enough question but it had Atsumu going red again, burying half his in the loose turtleneck he wore. “Shut up.”

“You make this too easy.”

“Shut up!”

_Cute_.

“What?”

“What?”

Atsumu narrowed his eyes. “Didya just call me cute?”

“No. Gross. Why the hell would I call you cute?”

Atsumu stared. Sakusa stared back, standing strong against the sudden of the room on this cool autumn evening. Finally, Atsumu huffed.

“Yer right. I ain’t cute.” Then, with the biggest shit eating grin, he said, “I’m hot as fuck.”

Sakusa could only roll his eyes and hope it didn’t come off too fond.

For all Sakusa joked about Atsumu falling of the K-pop cliff, he himself had been plummeting down another for a while. Each night had him looking forward to a morning of sunrise over the horizon and waking moments filled with a longing that sunk deeper into his bones with every heartbeat.

Sakusa was falling too fast, too hard, blind to all the warning signs, but it was the only way he knew how to fall. Moderation was a myth. Second thoughts fell to deaf ears of his heart as he watched Atsumu put his heels up on the couch, scrolling through his phone. Sakusa would let him put his feet up on _his_ couch. Probably. If Atsumu wore socks.

He’d let him touch too. His arm. His chest. Maybe a hand on his thigh and another on his neck, sweeping over the red coppertips and land on his collarbone where the very first one bloomed all those years ago. Maybe he’d let Atsumu kiss him too. Maybe they’d start with nothing more than a soft press of their lips. Then Sakusa would breathe in the sharp scent of Atsumu’s cologne and he’d let himself be laid open under a touch calloused from a lifetime of volleyball. Maybe… Maybe he could also draw something out of Atsumu that he’d only heard and seen in dreams.

“Omi-kun?”

Atsumu was staring again, with eyes that were both too piercing and too innocent. Surely he knew. He must. He’d seen Sakusa’s now-red flowers in the changerooms and even commented on it.

Sakusa had never thought about it before, about anyone, but maybe he could _put_ flowers somewhere on Atsumu. Belladonnas. Perhaps on his chest and Sakusa could kiss his way down from Atsumu’s lips to the beat of his heart, over purple flowers.

“Why are ya looking at me like that?” Atsumu said, running his fingers through his hair with a frown. “Is there something on me?”

Sakusa preferred to love from afar, silently, patiently, waiting for the infatuation to pass. But for the first time in Sakusa’s life, he _wanted_ someone to be in love with him and he _wanted_ to keep loving them too. He knew his heart was a traitor, doing as it pleased without a care for his mind’s warnings. But if he could love Rika for so long, surely he could love Atsumu even longer. Surely it meant that something that he fell for the same asshole twice.

“Not yet,” Sakusa answered.

“Yet? What does that even mean?” Atsumu touched his face. “Are you gonna give me a black eye or something? What did I even do this time?”

“Nothing.” _Except pry out his heart with a crowbar._

“Then what are ya threatening me for?”

Threatening? Sakusa thought about it, and then decided that yes. He was threatening him, with the most terrifying thing in life.

“Let me listen to _Dionysus_ ,” he said. “And show me your favourite member.”

Atsumu looked peeved about the ominous change in subject but his need to ‘convert’ Sakusa won in that moment. Begrudgingly, he tapped away at his phone and came up with a YouTube video.

In Sakusa’s imagination, Atsumu looked good with belladonnas.

~

Atsumu fell in love two weeks after another round of try-outs before season began, try-outs where Hinata Shouyou took to the sky like a phoenix and lit up every setter’s eyes.

Just below Atsumu’s heart, a sunflower bloomed.

~

Hinata Shouyou was a whirlwind taken form in a small body with flaming hair. There was a confidence in the way he held his chin high, looking directly at people rather than up. He had always been a monster on the court but the beach had moulded him into something so unassumingly powerful, something to be feared.

His decoy work was as impressive as the rumours said. His receives gave Shion a run for his money. He skittered around the court and placed himself in strategic positions that Sakusa couldn’t predict until Hinata pulled out something none of them were expecting. A beautiful emergency set, a spike from the end line, a left hand spike. There was no telling what other secrets skills he had stashed behind his bright smile.

No wonder Atsumu couldn’t look away.

There was a fiery glee in his eyes as he set to Hinata, quicker and quicker with each until Sakusa’s legs ached from jumping blocks and his heart whimpered from watching the two across the net, high-fiving and yelling compliments.

He walked off the court without another word. When he was done showering, Hinata and Atsumu were still at it, devising up flashy tricks to try next practice.

“You going home, Omi?” Atsumu called.

Sakusa nodded.

“Wait for me. I’ve got a new song I need ya to listen to.”

Hinata looked confused by this and a childish, immature part of Sakusa revelled in it. That was, until he arrived for practice the next day and Atsumu was showing Hinata the exact same song.

“Hey, Omi, wait!” Atsumu said again after that practice. “I’m comin’ over, right?”

“No.”

The grin slowly slipped off, replaced with a frown. “But ya won today. Weren’t ya talking about that Orpheus ballet the other day?”

Behind them, Hinata was talking loudly with Bokuto about going out for the night. Sakusa pick up his bag.

“You can look it up yourself.”

~

One sunflower became two and three and five and a bud branched off, on the verge of blooming into the sixth.

Atsumu laughed with Hinata, slung an arm over his shoulders, made inside jokes with each other and repeatedly talked about how lucky he was to set for Hinata, fondly ruffling his hair.

One time, Sakusa was so sick of it that he snapped, “Yeah, we get it. Now shut the fuck up.”

Atsumu’s glare was made of knives. Later, he’d demand to know what was up with Sakusa and he’d get a vague answer of, “Stuff in my life. Sorry.”

Sakusa didn’t hate Hinata. It was impossible to hate him. The kid was sweet and happy and everything that Sakusa could not be and that was his own fault. But he was afraid of Hinata and how easily he captured Atsumu’s heart when Sakusa had been trying for months with no avail.

“Atsumu-san, let me set for you this time,” Hinata called. “There’s something I want to try.”

And the setter in question was all too happy to comply, looking at the little hitter in a way he had never looked at Sakusa.

So Sakusa stayed away, reverted to watching from afar and hoping his feelings came to an end and freed him soon. He knew the pain of watching well but never quite like this, like thorned vines had wrapped around his heart tight and for all that it bled, it couldn’t stop loving anyway.

“Meian-san,” he said as Atsumu and Hinata continued long after practice ended, the slam of each spike echoing. Then, he realised he didn’t have anything to say.

The captain clapped him on his shoulder. “Terrifying, aren’t they?”

Yeah. He got that right.

Six coppertips became seven and they did not fade.

~

Atsumu was nothing if not sharp. From the very first time they met, he had the ability to strip Sakusa down to skin and bone and pick apart everything he did not like, unafraid of throwing all of that out on the table. Sakusa loved that about him.

Atsumu knew when he was being brushed off. He knew when Sakusa’s feelings interfered with the words he so carefully tried to filter out. He knew that the red coppertips were his but he also knew Sakusa needed space so he let him be. Sakusa loved that about him too.

(Or maybe he thought Sakusa would get over him soon enough. In which case, he was wrong.

For the first time, Sakusa was afraid that he’d never stop loving Atsumu, like his mum never stopped loving his dad even when death did them apart.)

The one thing Atsumu would not tolerate, however, was when Sakusa’s feelings interfered with the team. It was after a practice match against EJP when they were all cooling down and stretching after epically losing. They all made mistakes that game but Sakusa more than anyone else. If this was the last game he ever played, he might never be satisfied with himself again.

He was sitting with Komori, legs spread before them, when Atsumu stormed over and stood towering over them, hands on his hips and lips pressed into a thin line.

“The hell was that back there?” he demanded in front of both their teams.

“I fucked up,” Sakusa answered.

“Bullshit. I’ve never seen ya fuck up like that for an entire game. You were in none of the places you were supposed to be and what was that last spike?”

Komori looked on quietly.

Sakusa stood. “I thought it was for Hinata.” _Because you kept sending them to him._

Something in Sakusa’s tone seemed to provoke Atsumu because he narrowed his eyes and stepped closer. “I called for you and if you were in position, ya wouldn’t have spiked it into the net. What’s yer problem? And don’t give me that life bullshit.”

“Atsumu,” Komori started but Sakusa held up a hand.

“I screwed up today and I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time.” Sakusa turned to the rest of his team too and bowed in apology before he left, Atsumu’s eyes burning a hole through the back of his head.

Later, Komori invited him out for dinner with both their teams and Sakusa declined, unable to bear both his shame and the thought of Atsumu choosing to sit with Hinata instead of him like they used to.

~

The next day, Atsumu showed up at Sakusa’s apartment. He held up a DVD as soon as the door opened.

“Found that Orpheus ballet,” he announced, pushing his way past Sakusa. “Thought we could watch it together.”

Atsumu was not taking no for an answer. He toed off his shoes at the genkan and headed straight for the kitchen to wash his hands, thoroughly wiping his hands dry on a paper towel afterwards. He did this whenever he came over, always unprompted, and Sakusa wanted to kiss him every single time.

“I told you to watch it yourself,” he said.

Atsumu dropped the towel in the bin, looking at him expressionlessly. “No, we’re watching this together and after that yer gonna listen to some stuff I’ve put together because I beat yer ass off yesterday.” He gave a long look that Sakusa returned just as intensely in a staring contest that went nowhere.

“First,” Atsumu continued, “yer gonna tell me what’s wrong.”

Sakusa rolled his eyes. “Why would I tell you of all people?”

Atsumu’s face screwed up as he stepped closer. “Because I’m the one yer avoiding.”

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“Yes, you are. Ya won’t even look at me. So either I did something wrong or yer just being a jerk. Which is it?”

Sakusa grounded his jaw. “Has it occurred to you that maybe the world doesn’t revolve around you?”

“If it did, maybe you’d actually trust me and talk to me about shit in yer life.”

“Why the fuck do you even care?”

Atsumu closed his eyes, breathed in and breathed out heavily. When he opened his eyes, it was to land on Sakusa’s neck. “Because you love me.”

Sakusa’s chest squeezed tight, his breath catching in his throat. He knew that Atsumu knew but hearing him say that still made his hands shake. “If you know,” he choked out, “then don’t you think it’s cruel to be around me?”

“Why would it be cruel?”

“Leave me alone, Miya.”

“No.” He took another step closer. “I’ve left ya alone long enough and ya pulled shit like that yesterday so now I want answers. Why is it cruel, Kiyoomi?”

Did he really not understand? Was he so stupid that he had no concept of decency? Sakusa’s blood boiled with the need to scream something at him.

When Sakusa couldn’t answer, Atsumu closed another step and hissed, “What? Are ya _trying_ to get over me? What you said about me deserving love, was that just bullshit? Is that that bad to love me?”

“Yes, it is!”

Atsumu recoiled and stared up, mouth ajar. “Why?”

“Have you looked in the mirror lately, Miya? You have fucking sunflowers on you.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

_Everything._ Sakusa backed up a step, unable to keep looking at Atsumu’s wounded face and keep himself from losing his temper at the same time. He clenched his fist tight and released it slowly, imagined fire from inside him flowing out of his fingertips. He wasn’t angry at Atsumu, not really. He was angry at himself because he couldn’t handle his own emotions, always filled to the brim and threatening to spill but Atsumu didn’t deserve to drown in that flood, no matter how insensitive he was being.

Only when he was calm enough, he answered, “It’s cruel because you know I love you but you still flaunt someone else’s flowers around me anyway.”

Atsumu floundered, mouth opening and closing multiple times before he settled on, “Are ya fucking kidding me? These-” he pulled up his shirt and hoodie, “-are yours, ya idiot.”

Sakusa looked at the flowers across the rippling plane of Atsumu’s abdomen, inked in the richest shades of golds and browns, all as bright as the sunniest of days.

“I’m belladonna, not sunflowers.”

“You are to me.” Atsumu dropped his clothes but the fury did not ebb as he glared up at Sakusa. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about what other people saw in ya but I fell in love with how happy ya make me and how much you actually love even though ya try to hide it.”

Sakusa kept staring despite the sunflowers being covered up now, his mind not catching up to the racing of his heart. “I thought those were for Hinata.”

“Yeah, because yer an idiot,” Atsumu repeated, throwing his hands around madly. “I liked ya way before the kid even came back to Japan. I thought you knew that.”

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“I wasn’t exactly tryna hide it, Omi.” He started to count on his fingers. “Literally every single morning, I watch the sunrise with ya even when my balls are freezing. I obey all yer ridiculous rules so much that it’s like muscle memory now. I always toss to you whenever we desperately need a point. What else? Oh, I flirt with ya every single day. You think I go outta my way to dig up old ballet movies just for- Wait.”

Atsumu paused and looked up. He narrowed his eyes slowly. “Yesterday,” he started. “Did ya think I was favouring Hinata because I tossed to him more?”

No, because that made it sound like Sakusa was a third-grader who didn’t get enough turns on the swing. The problem was much deeper than that and when he spoke, it was quieter than he intended. “You don’t see how you look when you set to him. It’s like no one else exists.”

Atsumu’s face softened with a quiet, “Oh,” finally realising the core of Sakusa’s problem.

He sighed heavily and reached out, stopping just before he touched Sakusa’s face, waiting. So Sakusa leaned in, desperately meeting the cool hand against his flushed skin, and held his wrist so he would not let go.

Atsumu said, “Hinata is the type of person that even oceans will set themselves on fire for. Yeah, he’s hell of a good player and the epitome of happiness in general. But he’s not you, Kiyoomi. He doesn’t make me happy the way you do. Fuck, even when yer insulting my music taste, I’m happy because it means ya took the time to listen to me.”

“I always listen to you.”

“I know.” He sighed again, face still screwed up in discontent. “And when I’m with you, I feel seen too. Too much sometimes but I kinda like that a lot.”

“Sometimes not enough though.”

Atsumu huffed a short burst of laughter. “Yeah.”

He slid his hand down Sakusa’s jaw and curved around his neck, pulling him in closer but not by much. So Sakusa pulled him in by the hips, body and mind finally up to speed on the fact that Atsumu loved him. Not Hinata, but Sakusa who was prickly and moody and had far too many rules to be around. Atsumu apparently saw something in him that most didn’t and deemed him worthy of moulding his life to fit.

Sakusa swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. “I can’t promise you forever.”

Atsumu looked at his mouth. “’S okay, Omi. I can’t either.”

“But I can promise my best.”

“That’s all I want.”

Sakusa kissed him, or maybe Atsumu kissed first – he couldn’t tell but the careful press of their lips ignited something deep inside Sakusa. It was a tentative kiss that tested boundaries and respectfully backed away when resistance was met but Sakusa wanted and wanted, aching to touch and to be touched. He wanted to hold his hand against the sunflowers and feel the beat of Atsumu’s heart on his palm and never let go. He wanted so much more. But when he stiffened at the flick of Atsumu’s tongue, the latter slowly pulled apart and rested their foreheads together, his arms steady weights on Sakusa’s shoulders.

“I could tease ya about so many things right now.”

“Don’t ruin it.”

“I won’t, I won’t. Yet. Are ya good now?”

Sakusa nodded, finally able to put on a small smile. “Are you?”

“Yeah. Let’s go watch that ballet.”

Atsumu took his hand and led him through his own apartment as Sakusa could only watch. But this time, Sakusa watched with his heart in his hands, tattered and bleeding but healing. Maybe he couldn’t yet offer it up wholly and completely, and maybe not forever, but for Atsumu who’d always known when to push and exactly how hard, he would try.

Sakusa Kiyoomi loved as easily as he breathed and he had seven red coppertips in full bloom to show for how much he loved Miya Atsumu.

**Author's Note:**

> I re-wrote the last scene four times before it ended up with what you see here. Initially there was a lot more arguing involved but that's not what I wanted of their relationship so, even though it's dramatically less exciting now, it's also a lot healthier. I hope it's still okay.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are always very much appreciated, and you can yell with me on twitter [@casastella_](https://twitter.com/casastella_).


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